The room was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan, spinning lazily above your wrecked bed. The sheets were tangled at your feet, your body boneless, still trying to remember what breathing was. And beside you, sprawled across the mattress like he owned the damn thing, was JJ Maybank—half-naked, sweat-slick, and grinning like the devil himself.

He rolled onto his side, dragging his palm lazily down your stomach, fingers ghosting over your skin. “Babe,” he said, voice low and wrecked. “I think I just saw God.”

You snorted. You wanted to hit him, but you couldn’t even lift your arm.

He didn’t wait for a reply. “Nah, like—I blacked out at one point. You were clenching so hard I almost apologized for things I didn’t even do.”

JJ kissed your shoulder, all teeth and heat, and then flopped back dramatically onto the mattress, arms spread wide like he’d just run a marathon. “Shit, that was insane.”

You tried to speak, but your voice came out hoarse. “You’re a menace.”

He tilted his head, blue eyes flickering to you, full of boyish mischief. “A menace who gave you three orgasms, thank you very much.”

“Two and a half.”

“Three. I counted. Don’t play with me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. JJ smirked, proud and cocky, as if rearranging your entire existence was just a Tuesday for him.

Then he sat up, tousled hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling beneath the golden lamplight. “Alright, now that I’ve proven I’m God’s favorite—what snacks you got?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m starving,” he said, already sliding off the bed in nothing but his boxers. “Rebuilding your spine took energy, baby.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You got Cheez-Its? Fruit snacks? Capri Sun? Please say you got a Capri Sun.”

You groaned and pulled a pillow over your face. “You are not serious.”

JJ’s laugh was low and wicked. “Deadass.”

You heard the sound of your fridge opening a minute later. Cabinets slamming. A muttered, “Where the hell are the Doritos?” Followed by, “Oh hell yeah,” and then the unmistakable crack of a Capri Sun straw piercing plastic.

He came back into the room holding a half-eaten slice of cold pizza, the Capri Sun dangling from his mouth, and a bag of Doritos under one arm.

You stared at him. “You’re a walking war crime.”

He just winked. “And yet, you still let me destroy you. Weird.”

JJ climbed back onto the bed like a cat, pizza in one hand, dragging the Doritos between you like it was an offering. “Scoot. I wanna cuddle and eat. We’re multitasking.”

You sighed, letting him pull you into his lap, your bare legs folding over his. He was warm and still slightly damp, his skin tasting like sweat and sin when he kissed your collarbone.

“Y’know,” he murmured between bites, “we could go again.”

Your eyes widened. “JJ—”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “I’m fueled up now. Full tank. You might not be walking tomorrow.”